


Seventy-Two Hours

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Boba Fett's got seventy-two long hours of time to kill before he can drop off his latest bounty and get back to workPrincess Leia has seventy-two short hours left of freedom, before she gets stuck back on Alderaan, where she can never have any fun.So, what else is there to do in space but ...amuse themselves?Mind the rating and enjoy.





	Seventy-Two Hours

About an hour ago, Boba Fett programed the Slave I's system for a hyperspace trip, that once completed, would end a nice, easy mission to find and return with a runaway, the sort of hard merchandise that was his speciality. The programing system told him they'd arrive in seventy-three hours. He'd not quite sighed, as he's far too familiar with long waits (one is very used to waiting, as a bounty hunter) but he'd at least rolled his eyes at the long, mundane chunk of time he'd face.

Then, about five minutes ago, those seventy-two remaining hours started looking  _very_ different to him.

There are some benefits to simple sorts of missions, like retrieving a runaway. Less chance of dying, less mess, less hassle. Getting his cock sucked by a very eager young woman is not normally one of them. He’s not even quite sure how it happened. Given that the target was just a runaway and a very wealthy one at that, Fett hadn’t wanted her to tell her father anything that could be construed as mistreatment.

So he’d left her with a cot and a ration bar in the holding bay, assuming the princess could occupy herself.

This, with her tongue flicking over his already damp tip, her hands clinging to his still-armored legs, is certainly not the type of occupation he’d assume she’d find.

Not that he’s complaining.

Although perhaps he should? It had all happened so quickly. She’d caught him with his helmet off, his groin plate still off from a trip to the fresher. And then, like a damned Corellian sand panther, she’d leapt at him. The moments after that blurred together. Mouths meeting, half-snarl, half-shocked gasp, kisses that could only be described as devouring, his hands skimming over her supple, far-too-enticing body. It had been a long hunt to get her onto his ship. Long enough that he’d found himself aroused, more than once, watching her. Desiring the passion in her eyes, her fearlessness when she held a blaster and shot one of the warlord’s guards, and yes, her incredibly attractive body. So slender, and yet, so strong.

A panther was a good word indeed for Princess Leia Organa.

She’d told him she hadn’t run away. It had been a kidnapping. He’d believed her because he was sure, if she’d really run away, there was no way anyone could find her. 

But now she wasn’t running. Wasn’t fighting him, or anyone.

Just on her knees on the hard floor of th _ e Slave I,  _ giving him the best blowjob of his life. Or what he thinks is going to be one, since she  _ still  _ hasn’t taken his achingly hard cock into her damn mouth. She’s lapped at his tip, nipped his inner thighs, and ran her tongue over his length, but hasn’t moved toward the main point of the erotic dance they’ve gotten themselves into. He’s never been one for dancing. He’d much rather fuck her hard, against a wall, and be done with it.

At least, he’d thought that, until her touch had started tracing up and down his sack, pressing a little against balls already starting to ache. It’s a more intimate place than other fucks have touched with fingers, let alone with a tongue. That small contact between them is enough for most of his brain, his rational, focused brain, that’s kept him alive for twenty long years of being alone in the universe, to flee. All he can think of now; is desire and want and  _ her. _

“Go on,” he finally speaks, his voice a hoarse rasp, betraying the bit of an accent he’d inherited from a past he tried to forget. “Take it all.”

“Mm?” she licks her lips, looking up at him.

Fett groans, just a little. He reaches down, to press one still-gloved finger to her lips. Willingly, she opens her mouth, letting him push his finger in, and showing him just how good she is at sucking. “Just like that.”

She smiles. “What, afraid of a little creativity?”

He says nothing to that, and Leia moves. A second later, Fett lets out every curse he knows in any language his already addled mind can reach for; Huttese, Mandalorian, it didn’t matter. No language had words for how good it felt to have her sucking on his ballsack. The sounds of slurping and moaning echo in the silent ship. The walls have never quite heard him like that before.

She finally pulls back. “If I suck you off, you better get hard again.”

His hand twists in her thick brown hair. It’s been braided, long, like a rope, and he tries not to think of the things he could do with it coiled around his hand like a leash. Clearly, the princess is not usually in situations where such hair could turn into a weapon, or a toy, to be used against her. “Who are you to give me commands?”

“I’m the princess of Alderaan.”

“And you’re on my ship. That means nothing.”

After he says it, her eyes light up, with wild, feral fire. That. That was what she wanted to hear, he realized belatedly, as she moves to take him into her mouth, her lips so warm and inviting. “That so, princess?” he muses, tracing one gloved finger over her exposed collarbone. 

She doesn’t answer, given that her mouth is quite full. Fett closes his eyes, relishing in the pleasures she offers, the way her tongue swirls around him. 

He tries not to think too much about anything else. Just the pleasure, more intoxicating than any drug, in part because he’d never allowed himself the use of a drug, washing over him. Even this, he has to admit, even this pleasure is rare to him. Rare to find someone who gets him hard. Rarer to find they desire him too. And of course, the rarest is having a time and a place to deal with that erotic hunger in a matter satisfactory to both of them.

But they’ve got a three-day trip back to the rendezvous point, and he resolves to make the best of it.

Boba Fett shifts a little, bracing himself with one hand on the control system for the ship. Odd that he’s standing exactly where he usually pilots. Normally, he'd be paying attention to sensors, ensuring all was going smoothly, even in hyperspace. He's not a trusting man. Things always go wrong.

But this, this is going very right. Perhaps so right, that some might call it wrong. It's probably against the code to fuck a bounty. It's definitely against the law on some planets to engage in behavior like this with a princess. 

Thankfully, they're not on one of those planets. No. They're in his ship, under his jurisdiction, obeying his wants. Not that he's not aware of her own desire too. He'd be perfectly happy to move into a more mutually pleasurable position if the princess showed any interest in that. Instead, it almost seems if she likes being completely at his mercy, the generous giver of his pleasure.  So in return, he's holding himself back, trying to not take her too hard. He’s been trying to be… polite? Is that the right word?

But she’s moaning around his cock, her eyes so big and warm, and he can’t help it. He thrusts forward, deeper, deeper.

And she takes it. The princess fucking takes it, deep-throating him like a champion. Fett’s hand tightens in her hair. For those incredible moments, he’s completely in control, taking everything he could want, thrusting deep, deep, into her warm mouth, her eyes rolling back in her head, her face flushed. He doesn’t need his helmet sensors to tell him that her heart is racing, that she’s incredibly aroused right now. He can nearly smell her lust, is all too aware of how hungry she is, given how well this little mouth fuck is going.

Finally, she needs air and pulls back. There are a few tears in the cover of her eyes, and he uses his free hand to wipe them away. Studying her with cold, calculating eyes, to make sure she’s all right. He wants to be in charge, but he’d be damned if he doesn’t make sure she’s enjoying this too.

She coughs a little. He tells her. “Just stroke it while you recover.”

She glares up at him, and as if it’s a challenge, takes him back in her mouth

His hand drops down, feeling her breast under the thin white fabric of her dress. Her nipple’s already hard, and he amuses himself for a second, flicking his thumb over it until her eyes close with pleasure. “There we go,” he whispers, shocking himself. He’s not much of a talker, having sex or not. Leia hums, her mouth vibrating around his cock.

He’s so close. So fucking close.

It takes all his training, designed for moments less erotic, and more dangerous than this one, to pull himself back from the edge. Techniques for calming one’s battle lust work just as well for the standard sort of lust. He thinks, for a moment, while he’s breathing in and out to the count of eight, that it’s a shame he’s far more acquainted with the less standard lust. The sort that usually ends in death, not orgasms.

But given the bloodline that produced the incredible little vixen who was still worshiping his cock, this sort of lust could end up being just as deadly.

He resolves not to think of that and moves back to focusing on her breast. Squeezing it harder, and enjoying how that makes her hips buck forward. Must be true then, that the smaller the tits, the more sensitive they are. Deciding to explore that further, means letting go of her luxurious braid of hair. That’s all right. He’s already planned other fun with that braid.

While she works him, his hands toy with her breasts, getting both nipples to make hard peaks, straining against her white dress.

He pinches them.

She screams with delight, the first loud sound she’s made, and she nearly tips over from the pleasure.  His grin grows wider. It’s the sort of smile always hidden by his helmet, the sort that only appears when he finds a target’s weakness. The sort that would terrify any who see it.

Leia just matches the smile with one of her own. Less a panther, more a nexu in that moment. Capable of such lethal destruction that even captivity is a terrible idea for her. Good thing he doesn’t want to subdue her, not even to conquer her. He just wants her.

Now, he starts to thrust forward in time with his pinches and tugs on her breasts. Leia’s whole body is shuddering, her hips humping empty air.

He would almost feel bad for her if he didn’t know how good he was going to make her feel for the rest of the night.

“Your free hand,” he nods at the one currently tight around his knee-guard. Her fingernails are painted gold. He'd never seen a woman do that, and it amuses him, to think that everything she touches is touched by her wealth, her power, her station.

The power that she seems to be getting off on giving up. So, he commands her, “touch yourself’

She merely licks his tip, and he can see the precum drops on her pink tongue. It’s almost enough to make him forget his plan.

Almost, but not entirely.

“Touch yourself, now, Princess.”

Smiling, she does. There’s an unmistakable wet noise, as her fingers find her core. He bites his own lip hard enough to taste blood, motionless until his cock in back in her mouth. 

There. So close. He’s nearly there. And given her broken, short gasps, the way her rocking hips are now pressing against her own forearm, she is too.

Like the polite man (although certainly not a gentleman) he is, he lets her get off first. Even pulls out of her mouth as she starts to moan. Although that maneuver is more because he still remembers the feeling of teeth on cock from a much earlier encounter with someone else, and he’s not interested in repeating it.

Leia's orgasm shakes her whole body, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. His hands don’t stop their work, pinching down on her nipples, until she lets out a little whimper. “Boba…”

“Say my name again.” He knows that’s what she wants. “Beg.”

“Please, Boba.” The young woman, both a senator and a princess, more powerful than any other being her age, begs, “Please.”

“Please what?”

She blinks up at him. Her eyes are so wide, so warm. Innocent, which is something he’s not used to. It intrigues him as much as terrifies him. She whispers, “ _ anything. _ ”

Boba Fett smiles once more, and with one efficient gesture, tears the front of her gown open.

Two small, pert breasts greet him, swinging slightly with the motion. They're better than he's dreamed. The nipples are wine-dark, hard, delicious, and he knows he’s going to taste both of them before the night is over. 

The night?

What’s day or night in hyperspace? They have seventy-two hours, and he resolves to spend at least half of those buried between those incredible tits.

For now, he strokes himself. She’s gotten him nice and wet. He’s silent, like she was, although his face is even devoid of the bliss most men let show in their moment of shattering.

But Boba Fett is not most men.

With one more stroke, he cums. The seed lands in white ropes over Leia’s pale tits. It’s a sight he’ll never forget; the regal princess brought to her knees, naked, and drenched in his cum, her mouth still wet from his cock.

Her feral-cat smile tells him she feels the same way. 

That’s all it takes for him to have her in his arms. He’s not even sure how he managed the maneuver, not when his legs feel shaky from all that proceeded, not when the waves of his own pleasure are still lingering, pooling at the base of his spine.

But he finds he wants her more, now that he’s cum, than ever before.

While he holds her, her hand reaches up to the back of his neck, coaxing him down. No one touches him there, that soft place below his hairline, usually covered by his helmet. But her hand doesn't move, even as he shivers. He kisses her, because he knows that’s what she wants, and tastes himself on her lips. When he’d first kissed her, she tasted of expensive champagne, smelled like Alderaanian perfume. Now she smells like sweat and desire and tastes like sin. 

He finds it quite the improvement.

Then, she ends the kiss, to rest her head back against his chest plate. Not for the first time is shocked that someone so delicate is so small. 

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“I didn't know you were aware of such words, princess.”

She just licks her lips.

Fett growls, fully intending to be deep inside her within a little while. But all his hunger pauses, for one moment, when her hand touches his cheek. The touch is so soft, so innocent compared to what she’d just done that he freezes. “Something you need?”

Her smile turns wicked once more. “Your cock.”

“Haven’t you had enough of that?” 

“Have you had enough of me, bounty hunter?”

He realizes then that he likes it much better when she says his name. That’s fine. She’ll be screaming it soon enough. They’ve got time to kill, after all.

Seventy-two more hours, in fact. Seventy-two very wicked, hot, hours.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be a one shot. If you want to see more, let me know.  
> Also, this is sheer first-draft, hot-and-messy, fun.


End file.
